


Hope is Your Survival

by sweettasteofbitter



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/F, Hurt/Comfort, Sharing a Bed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-07
Updated: 2018-12-07
Packaged: 2019-09-13 19:10:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,393
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16898298
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sweettasteofbitter/pseuds/sweettasteofbitter
Summary: For the first time in what might well be a week, Leliana finds herself waking up in a bed.





	Hope is Your Survival

**Author's Note:**

> This is more or less a sequel to _The Inevitability of Dangerous Liasions_ , but you don't necessarily need to read that fic to make sense of this one.

Sleep, much like everything, doesn’t come easy these days.

For the first time in what might well be a week, Leliana finds herself waking up in a bed. She is surrounded by crisp cotton sheets, the smell of a body that isn’t hers and…vanilla?

Leliana breathes in deeply and frowns in her hazy post-sleep state. That can’t be right. Beds shouldn’t smell like vanilla. Is she still dreaming, then? She stretches and groans, but the unpleasant ache in her bones is very real, and the room around her doesn’t swerve and distort like in one of her nightmares. No, she definitely isn’t dreaming.

“Oh, you’re awake!” A clear voice chimes through the room. Leliana has to close her eyes against the cheerfulness of its owner; it is brighter than the light that forces its way through the heavy velvet curtains.

“Morning, Josie,” Leliana mumbles.

Josephine sits down next to her, her legs dangling off the side of the bed, which is designed to hold one person and a half. It’s definitely larger than the average single bed, but not nearly large enough to fit two comfortably. The shared space would explain the lingering warmth of Josephine’s body against Leliana’s hip. It would also account for the smell, for Josephine is always inexplicably surrounded by a vague aroma of vanilla. Leliana has never asked Josephine what causes her to smell this lovely, whether it’s the oil she puts in her hair or the cream she rubs between her fingers to battle dry skin. Leliana knows it isn’t the incense Josephine burns in her quarters, because its scent is as overwhelming for Leliana as being near Josephine can be.

Josephine is wearing a deep blue dressing gown to cover the excessive frills of her nightwear. Her hair hangs loosely over her shoulders, and she has not yet taken the time to do her makeup. Leliana can see fine lines starting to shape up in the corner of her kind eyes. She would go through great lengths to protect Josephine, but she cannot protect her from the passage of time.

“Why am I here?” Leliana asks, observing Josephine’s profile, following the line of her protruding nose and the curve of her mouth. “I have my own bed.”

“Which you refuse to use,” Josephine reminds her, decidedly less cheerful now.

Leliana doesn’t respond. She isn’t awake enough to battle with Josephine’s astuteness, and even if she were it would be unwise to rise to the opportunity, likely as she is to lose that fight.

 “You slept next to me?” Leliana says. It’s a remark in the disguise of a question, and to her surprise it conjures a deep blush to Josephine’s cheeks. Heat curls up Leliana’s sternum and trickles down into her stomach. What she wouldn’t give to have permission to kiss Josephine’s shoulder, to trace the knee peeking out from under the dressing gown with her knuckles.

“Why, it’s nothing we haven’t done before.”

Val Royeaux, years ago, numerous times. Leliana remembers. How could she not? Sleeping, always sleeping, keeping a watchful eye on each other in the evenings and mornings and in between – in that sense, nothing much has changed.

Leliana wonders if Josephine also counts that time they spent curled up in an improvised tent in the aftermath of the attack on Haven, with frozen tear stains on Josephine’s cheeks. Leliana wouldn’t be surprised if she did.

The flowers in her chest bloom, but their growth is accompanied by thorns.

Leliana is deeply aware that she loves Josephine, if she even remembers what love feels like - she hasn’t been so sure of that lately. It’s true that her heart stutters in Josephine’s presence, but whenever she thinks of laying her long-fostered feelings bare to the woman before her, her chest begins to ache, so afraid she is of losing everything. Losing Josephine. Losing Josephine’s trust.

She used to be so certain she would become Josephine’s downfall. She has seen Josephine grow, and though the largest chunk of this fear has dissipated, an uneasy anxiety rises within her whenever she thinks of what Josephine could achieve without her. At times she believes that things would be easier if Josephine loathed her. Instead, Josephine has seen her at her worst, and she is still around. Unconditionally.

“I was going to make sure there would be breakfast for you, but then I remembered that you do not eat well in the mornings, and I did not want the sight of marmalade to nauseate you.”

“Very considerate of you,” Leliana says. She turns onto her back, stretching once more.

Josephine fiddles with the ties of her dressing gown, curling the silken threads around her fingers and unfurling them again.

“Leliana, I have some concerns.”

“Of course you do,” Leliana says, but it is far from an accusation, and Josephine, noticing the subtlety of the remark, tuts and smiles down at her. The smile only last a moment, and then it is gone. Josephine touches her teeth to her bottom lip pensively.

“I cannot begin to fathom all of the matters you have on your mind, but it feels as though you have retreated from me whenever I have tried to reach out. I have seen you losing sleep. I have seen you skipping meals. And though I would not force my company upon you, I suppose what I’m trying to say is that,” Josephine takes a deep breath, “I miss you.”

Leliana looks up at her and refuses to blink.

“I’m here,” she says.

“That isn’t what I meant, and you know it.”

Leliana shifts and sits up so she can reach out and touch Josephine’s hand with her own. For all that they have shared beds and provided embraces in times of need, Leliana touching Josephine’s flawless hands with her weathered, scarred fingers is a rare gesture. Leliana can only hope Josephine understands the gravity of it.

“I’m here,” she says again. “With you. Even though sometimes it must feel like I’m not. I cherish you too deeply to abandon you.”

“Leliana…”

Josephine looks down at their entwined fingers without saying much more. She silently rubs the back of Leliana’s fingers with her thumb, and then, with one swift movement, she brings Leliana’s knuckles to her mouth, kissing them softly.

“I will help you to make it through,” Josephine says, her eyes closed, knowing like no other how to soothe with touch, with words. “I have your back. I promise.”

Leliana finally finds within herself the strength to do what she has been wanting to do for many months: she reaches out for Josephine, lifting her chin until she opens her eyes.

“It’s nothing we haven’t done before,” Leliana says quietly, just before kissing her.

(Val Royeaux, years ago, just once. It’s a dear memory that Leliana never expected to repeat itself.)

Their initial kisses aren’t comfortable, a little clumsy even, but they are _home_.

“Leliana,” Josephine says softly when she leans back, taking Leliana’s head in her hands. “I’ve been wanting to…I didn’t think you’d still…”

“I do, Josie. I still do.”

Josephine gathers her close, arms protective around her. Leliana allows herself to be held and buries her face against the blue silk of Josephine’s nightgown. Josephine lets out a deep breath of relief, tension draining from her body.

“We’ll figure this out,” Josephine says, stroking Leliana’s back. Leliana doesn’t think the fear will ever leave her completely, but there is a bright star on the horizon, and it bears the name of Josephine. Her beautiful friend Josephine, who wants to hold her, and it’s one of the most generous gifts that has ever been bestowed upon Leliana.

Josephine breaks the embrace, but only to kiss Leliana again. Softly this time, hands carefully placed on Leliana’s shoulders. When she leans back, Josephine is smiling, and Leliana realizes that she does remember what love feels like.

“Before we make sense of it all though, perhaps we _should_ have breakfast first,” Josephine says. “We can’t engage in strenuous mental activity without food in our stomachs.”

“All right.” Leliana agrees, and Josephine stands up from the bed. Leliana leans back against the pillows and watches Josephine leave the room in search for breakfast. Leliana stares up at the ceiling, surrounded by the scent of vanilla.

Maybe, just maybe, things are going to work out this time.

 


End file.
